


Praise the Catastrophe

by paperscribe



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-12 22:24:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1202737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperscribe/pseuds/paperscribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hathaway has a medical scare, and Lewis is there to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Praise the Catastrophe

Hathaway sighed heavily for the fifth time in an hour.

Lewis peered at him. "What is it? Something gone wrong with the case?"

"No, it's nothing." But Hathaway's voice was softer than usual…a bit pained.

Lewis thought he knew why. "Stomach's upset, is it?"

Hathaway looked at him, startled.

"You didn't want lunch," Lewis said, explaining how he knew.

Hathaway nodded reluctantly. "A bit."

"A bit" with Hathaway could mean anything from "just a tiny bit" to "in ten minutes, I expect to be dead." Lewis suspected this version was somewhere in between the two. Lewis got up, wandering to the tea room and wandering back ten minutes later with two mugs of tea, one of which he left on Hathaway's desk.

Hathaway glanced at the mug, then at Lewis. "What's that?"

"Mint tea," Lewis said. "Good for getting things settled."

"Thank you," Hathaway said.

Lewis tried not to notice whether or not Hathaway drank the tea. When that didn't work, he tried not to worry when he noticed Hathaway'd barely touched the stuff.

***

Hathaway stopped sighing, but over the next week, Lewis watched Hathaway while trying not to look as though he was watching. And what Lewis saw worried him.

The stomach pain hadn't gone away. If anything, it had gotten worse. Hathaway's hand seemed to hover round that area all the time now, and he grimaced in discomfort a few times when he mistakenly believed Lewis couldn't see his face.

What really alarmed Lewis, though, was the fact that Hathaway wasn't eating. He refused lunch nearly every day, claiming not to be hungry, and in only a week, he'd begun to lose weight. Hathaway was a skinny bloke, and he didn't have the weight to lose.

It wasn't Lewis's place to say anything, and he knew it wasn't. But when someone was fading away in front of you, what your place was didn't matter so much.

"It's none of my business," Lewis said, and Hathaway gave him a suspicious look at that phrase alone. Lewis didn't blame him. "But maybe you should see a doctor."

"I'm fine," Hathaway said.

"I haven't seen you eat since…"

"I'm fine," Hathaway snapped, with a tone that said he didn't want to talk about it anymore.

It went against every instinct Lewis had to let the matter go. But he would give Hathaway the benefit of the doubt for now.

Lewis spent all night researching stomach pain and weight loss on the Internet. He didn't like what he found.

***

Lewis was trying not to interfere, but it was increasingly difficult. Hathaway had lost more weight; the difference in his appearance was striking, and not in a good way. Lewis tried to get him to eat, but no matter what he offered to bring back for lunch, Hathaway wasn't hungry.

They were down the pub one night when Lewis said, "This is ridiculous."

"What is?" Hathaway asked, brow furrowing slightly.

"This little dance we're doing. You pretend nothing's wrong; I'll pretend nothing's wrong. How bad are you?"

"I told you I'm fine."

"I've got eyes, haven't I?" Lewis retorted.

Hathaway was quiet a moment. "It's nothing you need to worry about."

"Oh, well, that's much better, thanks." Lewis knew he was being overly sarky, but he couldn't help it. That was his response to worry. "Clearly I won't worry now."

Hathaway sounded annoyed. "There's nothing you can do about it, so there's no sense worrying."

"You dragged me to a bloody dentist when I couldn't eat, and I hadn't lost weight like you have."

"You seem to think I haven't noticed what's happening. I assure you, I have," Hathaway said, voice tight, demeanour that sort of formal politeness that really meant 'piss off'.

"Then do something about it!" Lewis snapped. "Don't just roll over and…"

He cut himself short, because he couldn't bring himself to say the word. They both knew what he was thinking, what the unspoken word was. Hathaway's expression didn't change, but he closed his eyes in silent acknowledgment of Lewis's point…admitting Lewis wasn't wrong.

"You know already," Lewis said, feeling starved of air.

"I have some idea," Hathaway said quietly.

"But you haven't been to a doctor."

"I don't want confirmation."

Lewis had to wait to speak until he was sure his voice would be steady and firm, with no fear or upset in it. "You don't know it would be confirmation. That's why they have doctors."

Hathaway's jaw clenched. "How long do you think they'll let me keep working?"

"What?"

"If it's what I think it is, how long do you think they'll let me stay on before they push me into some sort of low-risk administrative job or, worse, put me on medical leave? I need something else to think about."

Lewis understood. He'd seen it in Morse too--people with restless minds were always thinking, whether they wanted to or not. Some had said Morse worked himself into the grave, but Lewis had never thought so. He thought Morse might've succumbed long before he had done without the work. The external focus had helped; no one had been closer to Morse than Lewis, and he couldn't deny that it had helped Morse to have another problem to wrestle with besides his own.

Lewis was going to lose another partner, wasn't he? Christ. Lewis felt his heart twist inside him at the thought.

"I won't stay on if they give you a medical," Lewis said quietly.

"Sir, I appreciate the support, but…"

"I don't want to do this with anyone else," Lewis interrupted.

And it was true. Once he'd loved the challenge of building a new relationship with a new partner--finding out how best to work in concert, getting to be friends, finding the perfect balance that came with time in a working relationship. Now, though, he was tired. He was tired and sad and he didn't want to do this job if Hathaway wasn't there.

Hathaway didn't seem to know what to say in response. Lewis wasn't sure what to say either.

"If I make an appointment with someone," Lewis said finally, "will you bother to show up?"

Hathaway sighed.

"You understand why I can't let this go," Lewis said.

Hathaway nodded. "Yes."

Lewis looked at his empty glass. "You'll want someone to drive you."

Hathaway gave him a look. "I'm not an invalid."

"Nobody said you were," Lewis retorted. "I'm making sure you don't change your mind."

It wasn't only that. If Hathaway got bad news…well, Lewis knew it was best not to be left alone when you got bad news.

"All right," Hathaway said.

Lewis didn't have the heart to socialise anymore. Not after this. "Come on. Let's go home."

***

Lewis spent most of the night staring at the ceiling. Nothing good ever came of trains of thought that visited you between the hours of one and five, but that didn't stop them coming. Every possible worst-case scenario passed through Lewis's mind. He hadn't felt like this since Val had died.

Val. Why was Val the point of comparison and not Morse? Morse's health had gone more slowly downhill. Even though the end had been a shock (and it was always a shock; any death was a shock, no matter how expected), Morse had been ill, and everyone had known what the end point would be.

And for all that, losing Hathaway felt more like losing Val. Lewis closed his eyes, as if to ward off the next logical thought.

No. He opened his eyes. Hathaway was still here, and there were still things Lewis could do for him. He could provide help and support and friendship and…and even affection, if it was requested. He'd gone into policing to help, and he would help now.

Hathaway had enough burdens to carry. It would be Lewis's job to help him carry them.

***

Hathaway looked like hell the next morning, shadows beneath his eyes and exhaustion plain in the way he held himself.

"You didn't sleep," Lewis said almost accusingly.

Hathaway looked at him. "Neither did you."

Lewis smiled sheepishly. "Some pair we are." He set a vacuum flask on Hathaway's desk.

"What is it?" Hathaway asked.

"Chicken soup," Lewis replied. "You can drink the broth if you'd rather not eat."

Hathaway gave Lewis a small smile. "Thank you."

Lewis rested a hand on Hathaway's shoulder a minute, patting gently when he realised he couldn't think   
of anything to say. Then he went back to his desk. "Any word on the Bradford case?"

"Yes, actually," Hathaway said, sorting through the papers he'd organised on his desk.

Lewis was delighted to see that Hathaway did eat nearly all the soup. He resolved to bring him soup every day.

***

Hathaway looked similarly terrible the morning Lewis picked him up to see the doctor, but Lewis had at least expected that. If he'd been in Hathaway's position, he would've been wrecked.

Hathaway let out a snort of laughter when he saw the vacuum flask Lewis had placed in the beverage holder. "Leaving nothing to chance, are we, sir?"

"I'm making sure you're fed properly, if that's what you mean," Lewis said. "I know what you brainy types are like. So busy pondering you never have a proper meal." He kept his tone light.

Hathaway glanced at the flask. "What flavour today?"

"Tomato," Lewis said. "Only you can't have any beforehand, in case they test something and think it's blood."

"You've clearly been spending too much time with Dr Hobson," Hathaway said.

And what was Lewis to make of that? He simply acknowledged the comment with a nod.

Hathaway exhaled. "Sorry. I'm bound to be a bit off today."

"Who said you had to be on?" Lewis asked. "Not me. If you need a kip in the car on the way there,   
you're welcome to it. You don't have to keep me entertained."

"I'm not sure I remember how to sleep right now," Hathaway said.

Lewis nodded. "Maybe after."

"Maybe." But Hathaway didn't sound convinced.

Lewis paused as they pulled up in front of the doctor's surgery. "So…how would you like this to go?"

"I'd settle for it going well," Hathaway said, "but that's not what you meant."

"No."

Hathaway turned to look at Lewis. "Do you hate waiting rooms?"

"Want me to come in with you?" Lewis asked.

Hathaway hesitated, then gave an abrupt little nod.

"Right." Lewis nodded as well, turning off the car. He followed Hathaway into the surgery. Really, he would've followed him into the appointment if Hathaway had let him, but Hathaway didn't seem to want to go that far.

When Hathaway emerged again, Lewis could tell there were no answers yet.

"They need to run some tests," Hathaway said.

Lewis nodded. "What sort of tests?"

"An endoscopy," Hathaway said. "Should be great fun. I've always wanted to be unconscious while a tube   
is fed down my throat and into my stomach." He managed a mirthless smile. "I'll have to fast beforehand. I told them that shouldn't be a problem."

"You'll want a driver that day," Lewis said.

Hathaway shook his head. "I can't keep imposing."

Lewis gave Hathaway an exasperated look. "It's not an imposition when I ask you!"

Hathaway nodded. "I may still be…feeling the effects of the sedation afterward."

"Then I'll take you back to mine and feed you," Lewis said.

Hathaway chuckled at that. "Is that your answer to everything? Give me more soup?"

"It's all I know how to do," Lewis said, cursing his voice for catching and hoping Hathaway wouldn't notice. "It's me old standby from when the kids were ill."

"What, to give me soup?"

Lewis was grateful for the chance to be facetious. "Didn't you notice the strange man who'd turn up, feed you soup, and run away?"

"Oh, that was you! You seemed taller then."

"That's enough of that," Lewis said good-naturedly.

When Hathaway spoke again, his tone was quiet but urgent. "Can we leave now, please?"

Lewis nodded, getting to his feet and following Hathaway out onto the street. He stayed quiet in the   
car, inviting Hathaway to be quiet or talk as he liked.

"The good news is, it could be a few other things, most of which are treatable," Hathaway said. "It could be an ulcer. It could be a bacterial infection that leads to ulcers if it goes untreated."

"And in that case, you'll take your medicine and be fine," Lewis said. That was a nice thing to cling to, even if it was hard to forget what the worst-case scenario might be.

"I just wish it were over," Hathaway said fervently. "I could take anything. I could even take dying if I were sure that's what I was doing."

Lewis resisted the urge to tell Hathaway not to say things like that. He could understand why Hathaway wanted it over with.

Hathaway turned to him. "You're quiet. Why?"

Lewis shrugged. "What do you want me to say?"

"That's not an answer."

"Some of us have an interest in you not dying." The minute the words were out of his mouth, Lewis was   
fairly certain he shouldn't have said that.

"And I don't?"

"Of course you do. I didn't mean that."

Hathaway leant back against the seat. "I'm just tired of feeling like this."

Lewis nodded. "I'm sure."

"I didn't mean…" Hathaway was silent for a long while. "I don't really want to…"

"I know," Lewis said softly. "Take it easy on yourself. You've had no sleep and not much to eat. Plus you've been worrying yourself into a frenzy. We all say things we regret at times like that."

Hathaway nodded. "What about you? How are you doing?"

"Oh, I'm all right," Lewis said.

"Liar," Hathaway said, but there was no malice in it.

Lewis raised his eyebrows and glanced at Hathaway.

"Yes, I'm aware," Hathaway said, humour in his voice. He sighed.

"Have some soup," Lewis said. "You'll feel better."

"Well, naturally," Hathaway said, but he did pick up the flask and take a few sips of soup as they drove.

***

The rest of the ride was quiet until they reached Hathaway's flat.

"Are you going back to work?" Hathaway asked.

It didn't take a detective to see what Hathaway was getting at. "No, I took the day. Want me to come in?"

Hathaway looked relieved not to have to ask. "If you don't mind."

"No. Now's your chance to have a bit of revenge…you can put me to work as you like."

Hathaway gave Lewis a sceptical look as they approached the front door. "Why would you want to do that?"

Lewis shrugged. "I've got nothing else."

"Unfortunately," Hathaway said, "I have not got soup for you."

Probably Hathaway didn't have any food in the house, given how long it had been since he'd been eating properly. "That's all right. Don't care for the stuff much." Lewis wandered into the living room, noting the pillow and blanket on the sofa. "You've been sleeping in here?"

Hathaway looked embarrassed. "Closer to the loo."

Lewis hadn't known about that bit, and he winced in sympathy. "If you have to run off, don't stand on ceremony."

Hathaway nodded. "Thanks."

Lewis took a post in the armchair in case Hathaway felt like lying down. Hathaway noticed, and hesitated.

"I know it would be impolite, but do you mind if I…?"

"No, please, have a lie down," Lewis said. "Sleep if you like. I can entertain meself."

"Sitting in a chair with nothing to do?" Hathaway said dubiously.

"I have the power of imagination," Lewis said as seriously as he could.

Hathaway snorted with laughter as he stretched out on the sofa. He was clearly tired, but some of the   
tension seemed to leave him when his head rested on the pillow.

"Better?" Lewis said.

"Mmm," Hathaway agreed, eyelids a bit droopy. "But I can never sleep during the day. My brain keeps spinning and spinning."

"Maybe some music?" Lewis suggested. "Or…I dunno, the telly on in the background?"

Hathaway shook his head. "You'll laugh at me if I tell you, but there was only one thing that ever worked."

"What's that, then?"

"When I was little, my mum used to rub my back till I fell asleep," Hathaway murmured.

Lewis nodded. "I can do that."

Hathaway looked surprised. "Honestly?"

"Of course." Lewis crossed to the sofa and sat next to Hathaway. "Upper back?"

"Mm-hmm," Hathaway murmured, eyes beginning to drift closed as Lewis rested a hand on his back and moved it in lazy circles. The tension drained away from his body and his face. "'S nice…"

"Good," Lewis whispered.

Hathaway was asleep within the minute. He looked so quiet, so calm. Lewis wished he knew how to bring Hathaway that sort of peace when he was awake. He kept his hand skimming gently over Hathaway's back, his own expression wistful and soft as he watched Hathaway sleep.

That was the first time Lewis said I love you to Hathaway, even if it was only in his thoughts.

***

"Sir?"

Lewis woke with a start. "Hnn?" He was leaning back against the sofa, practically sitting on Hathaway's   
legs, hand still on Hathaway's back. "Oh."

"Looks like I wasn't the only one who needed some sleep," Hathaway said softly.

"No," Lewis admitted, grimacing as he stretched and tried to work some of the stiffness out of his neck and back. He wasn't used to sleeping in that position. "And I suppose you'll want your legs back."

"There's no hurry," Hathaway said, sounding faintly amused. He grunted, pulling himself into a seated position, and then a look of nausea came over his face. "Oh, no."

Lewis scanned the room, looking for a bowl or bucket of some sort. "Hang on."

But Hathaway couldn't hang on, and in his hurry to get up, he was promptly sick in Lewis's lap.

"Oh," Hathaway panted, looking wretched. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry…"

Lewis shook his head. "It's all right. I've done worse to myself."

But Hathaway wouldn't be comforted. He tried to get up, but he was weak and shaky and his legs wouldn't hold him.

"Stay there," Lewis said gently. "I'll get a towel."

"Top left in the cupboard," Hathaway called after him.

Lewis wiped down his trousers as well as he could. They'd need a wash when he got home, but they shouldn't be too bad until then. He'd got more or less used to cleaning up this sort of thing with the kids. He could hear Hathaway getting water in the kitchen.

When Lewis returned to the living room, Hathaway was sitting on the sofa, knees up to his chest. Lewis realised with an ache that, even eating a bit more, Hathaway wasn't putting on any of the weight he'd lost. He was still too thin.

"I'm sorry," Hathaway mumbled.

"You couldn't help it," Lewis said, sitting beside him. "And if you could, I'd be a bit put out."

Hathaway tried to smile, but it didn't work. He was trembling, and Lewis couldn't tell if it was the aftermath of having been sick or because he was frightened. Lewis rested a hand on Hathaway's shoulder, inwardly pained at the thought of him having hidden this level of illness from everyone for so long.

"Don't feel you have to stay," Hathaway said.

"I want to," Lewis said. Hathaway made a scoffing sound. "Not that I want you to be ill. But you need someone. And I want it to be me."

Hathaway raised his eyes then and looked at Lewis intently. Lewis knew he'd given himself away, but there were more important things than his pride right now. Many more important things. Hathaway looked as though he wanted to say something, but he didn't seem to know what, and finally, he crumpled slowly to the side, leaning against Lewis.

"Would a hug be…" Lewis trailed off awkwardly.

"It's not an imposition if I ask for it," Hathaway said softly.

Lewis nodded, embracing Hathaway gently. Hathaway clung to him, badly in need of any form of comfort.

"I'm not very well," Hathaway whispered, admitting it for the first time.

Lewis nodded, ignoring the lump in his throat. "I know."

***

Hathaway never said exactly how he felt, but he didn't have to. After that day, the way they were with each other changed. They'd never had much of a sense of personal boundaries with each other, but they had even less of one now. Hathaway in particular behaved like a man who knew there wasn't much time, hands always searching for Lewis and coming to rest on his arm, his back, his shoulder. It felt to Lewis as though Hathaway was constantly touching him to reassure himself that Lewis wasn't going to vanish…or perhaps that Hathaway wasn't.

Innocent knew something had changed, but to her credit, she didn't press them to tell her what it was. She gave Lewis questioning looks a few times, but he wasn't willing to explain. Not yet. Not until they had the answers. Lewis did what he could to cover for Hathaway's illness at work; when Hathaway began looking queasy, Lewis would tell him to fetch something so it wouldn't seem strange for Hathaway to hurry away. It was all he could do, and Lewis didn't know if they were fooling anyone, but he'd promised to help any way he could, and this was one of those ways.

They never spent an evening apart now. Fear had made them desperate, and they divided their time between Hathaway's flat and Lewis's. They'd spend half the night talking at frantic speeds, that same desperation pushing them to share everything they could with the other while they still could. Honesty was more important than being careful, and they didn't have time for both.

They spent much of the time clinging to each other, dreading the day they might be pulled apart.

"I'm sorry," Hathaway whispered to him one night. "I know this is too much."

"It's not," Lewis whispered back.

"It's just that…I want someone to know me. As I am, not as they think I am."

Lewis touched Hathaway's shoulder in silent understanding.

Hathaway's next words were almost inaudible. "I'm sorry I couldn't love you better."

Lewis pulled him into a fierce hug. "Don't ever say that."

Some nights Hathaway was too poorly to sleep. Lewis told Hathaway to wake him so he wouldn't have to lie alone with his thoughts. It was a mark of how terrible Hathaway was feeling that he did as Lewis asked without protesting.

On those nights, Lewis held Hathaway and stroked his hair and kissed his face and talked him through to morning.

***

The morning of the endoscopy, they hardly spoke. Neither one knew what to say. Hathaway seemed to be in a sort of resigned daze, ready for whatever they would tell him. Lewis would ordinarily have tried to lighten the mood, but he couldn't manage it either.

They didn't even talk in the waiting room. Lewis knew he should be the one holding up the conversation, especially now, but he couldn't think of anything to say. They just sat quietly, holding each other's hands.

"Mr Hathaway?" asked a doctor who'd just emerged. "We're ready for you now."

Lewis stood with Hathaway, feeling the sudden panic in Hathaway through the way his hands tightened. He noted that the doctor sounded as though she was from up north. He noted that Hathaway wouldn't let go of him. And he knew what he had to try.

Although he didn't like doing it and he generally didn't do it, Lewis could lean hard on his accent when he needed to, making himself seem that much more obviously Northern. And he leaned on it for all he was worth now. "Don't suppose there's any way I could come in with him?"

The doctor gave him a sympathetic smile; the accent work hadn't gone amiss, even if Lewis could feel Hathaway staring at him. "I'm afraid not."

"I won't touch him. I'll be out of the way. I only want to make sure…" He'd been concentrating so hard on the way he talked that his voice breaking took him completely by surprise. He cleared his throat, feeling Hathaway's hands tighten round his. The poor sod was going in for testing and he was trying to comfort Lewis…who should be giving the comfort, not needing it.

"We can't have anyone in the room while the procedure's going on," the doctor said, "but as soon as it's done, I'll come to get you. How would that be?"

Lewis nodded. "Please." He gave Hathaway's hand a return squeeze. "I'll be in soon as they let me."

Hathaway smiled slightly. "I promise to stay there till then."

Reluctantly, they let go of each other, and Lewis stayed standing until Hathaway was out of sight.

He didn't remember sitting, but he must've done, because next thing he knew, he was hunched forward, forearms on his knees, hands clasped together.

Hospitals were funny things. He'd been in so many, and not always for the worst of reasons. He'd lost Val in one, but before that, he'd been with her twice for the births of their children. And the only time he ever thought about it, the only time he ever remembered the specifics of being in hospital, was when he was in one again.

He should've brought a book or magazine or something. Anything to stop his mind from wandering. ("Where it will go," unhelpfully added the part of his brain that remembered Beatles lyrics.) Instead, here he was, waiting for Schrodinger's Hathaway, who was both well and ill at the same time till you opened the box and saw which. (He'd have to remember to tell Hathaway that. He'd like the reference.)

When the doctor emerged again, Lewis was on his feet before she was even near him. "Well?"

"We won't know the results of the biopsy till the lab runs some tests," the doctor warned him.

Biopsy. Lewis felt as though all the air had suddenly left the room.

"It's bad then?" he managed to stammer.

The doctor looked at him for a moment, and Lewis knew he was committing the emotional equivalent of standing in public without any clothes on, but he didn't care. He had to know the answers. He had to know what he was dealing with so he could be ready when he was with Hathaway. He could do it if he prepared.

"No," she said softly, taking pity on him. "We'd do a biopsy anyway. There's no sign of cancer or ulcers."

Lewis hadn't dared think of the best-case scenario in case it didn't happen. Now, faced with it, he didn't know what to do. "…you mean…?"

"It's most likely an h. pylori infection," the doctor said. "If the tests confirm that, we'll put him on antibiotics and a proton-pump inhibitor and he'll be fine."

"You wouldn't mind saying that last bit again?" Lewis asked.

The doctor smiled at him. "He'll be fine."

Lewis exhaled, and it felt like the first time he'd breathed in a month. _He'll be fine._ Then he suddenly remembered why the doctor had come to get him. "Oh! Can I…?"

The doctor's smile widened, and she nodded. "I'll show you the way."

Hathaway was groggy but awake when Lewis entered the room.

"How are you?" Lewis asked softly, sitting by the bed.

"Throat's a bit sore," Hathaway said, voice raspy. "But I'll manage."

Lewis nodded, taking Hathaway's hand in his.

"They told you?" Hathaway said.

Lewis nodded. He wanted to say so many things. He wanted to whoop and shout and cry and tell Hathaway he was so glad he was all right. He wanted to say how afraid he'd been. He wanted to cover Hathaway in kisses and never let go of him. But somehow none of it seemed right.

"And you were worried," Hathaway joked gently.

Lewis didn't say anything, but he held Hathaway's hand a little more tightly. The humour slid from Hathaway's face, and he tightened his own grip on Lewis's hand, acknowledging that he'd been worried too.

"I've been thinking you might need someone to help out round the house," Lewis said. "I was thinking it might be nice if it were a more…permanent situation."

Hathaway smiled. "Live-in help?"

Lewis nodded.

Hathaway made a show of pondering the question. "Can he make soup? Because I'm useless without it."

"I understand soup is one of his specialities," Lewis said.

Hathaway nodded. "Good."

"He'll make enough of the stuff to go swimming in if you want."

"He's already done so much," Hathaway said quietly. "I hate to impose."

For the first time in what felt like an age, Lewis smiled. "It's not an imposition if he asks you."

Hathaway smiled in turn. "Lucky me."

Lewis shook his head. "Lucky him." Lucky both of us.

Hathaway closed his eyes and murmured, "'Why, if it was an illusion, not praise the catastrophe, whatever it was, that destroyed illusion and put truth in its place?'"

Lewis wondered if he was meant to find this profound. "I've no idea what you're on about."

Hathaway opened his eyes and smiled. "Virginia Woolf. I find I'm praising the catastrophe at the moment."

Lewis nodded. "I see."

"You do?"

"You're still drugged," Lewis said.

Hathaway laughed. "Probably. But that's all right, isn't it?"

"Fine," Lewis said, and he meant it. Hathaway was fine, so everything was fine now.

And soon, they'd be going home.


End file.
